Page 22 of Never Marry the Best Man (Whatever It Takes #4)
The time I met the single dad at the soccer fundraiser but his daughter was in Nessa’s class…
The time I was going to Nantucket for four days on that guy’s boat but Carmine’s kids got strep and they couldn’t take Nessa–and I really liked that guy…
All the times somebody didn’t want me to date a man I liked so I didn’t…
Ranney
“It might be what ?” Tom asked.
“Nothing. Here, look at this page: Citizenship and Immigration Services. Eighteen-month timeline. We can try to find a good immigration lawyer for you but ten days is no time. I can’t get a dental appointment in ten days.”
“I know. It’s hopeless. Don’t waste any more of your time. I mean, thank you,” he chuckled, the sound going straight up her spine, making her tingle. “But it’s no use.”
“Excuse me for overhearing, it is a small car,” Achilles broke in.
“Do I understand that you require the services of an immigration expert? I am very familiar with this problem, believe me. Lucky for you, my cousin is just such an expert! The fact that I am here right now, driving you to Idaho and not in Greece, is proof of his excellent work. We will go straight to his office. Or maybe meet him in a coffee shop, probably better. I will call him right away.” Right-turn signal on and waving for good measure, he crossed two lanes of traffic and pulled the car over to the curb.
“Achilles, no–thank you, but I’ve got this. If you could just drive–”
Twisting in his seat, Achilles faced them, a deadly serious expression on his face.
Wild waves made of salt and pepper framed a friendly, round face, with dark chocolate eyes and a sprinkling of moles around a sun-battered face.
His teeth were bright white, the bottoms crooked but the tops straight, and he wore an open-collar yellow shirt, dark pants, and a woven fedora with a red feather rested on the passenger's seat.
“You must listen to me. Nothing is more important than this. Immigration, they do not fool around! You will find yourself back where you came from before you know what happened. I am going to help you. I will take you to my cousin.” He flipped the signal to indicate left turn and re-crossed traffic, entering the U-turn lane as the light went to yellow.
Without hesitating, he pulled a hard left and accelerated, throwing Ranney against Tom’s side.
He was hard and muscled, yet soft with his hands as he helped to settle her a bit. She liked his touch.
Liked it a little too much.
Struggling upright, she said firmly, “No, Achilles! It’s not what you think! No one is here illegally! We just need a -- well, to make Tom look as close to citizenship as soon as possible!”
“But I am an American citizen. At least, through my mum. Bloody hell, why didn’t I file my papers long ago,” Tom muttered, casting Ranney’s laptop a self-incriminating look.
“Hah. Now I understand. I hear this every day in Las Vegas.” He seemed somehow disappointed in them, although whether it was the loss of a client for his cousin or the prosaic nature of their problem, Ranney wasn’t sure.
Tom rolled his eyes and shifted her computer onto his own lap, reading the page on dual citizenship, one hand dragging along her leg and sending more of those delicious shivers through her.
In the sudden silence, Ranney remembered her phone, which she had silenced in the hospital.
Picking up her bag, she felt around until her fingers touched the smooth glass surface.
When the screen lit up, every communication app of any kind featured a red circle with white numbers.
Lots of numbers, one for every missed call, voicemail, text, email, Slack notification, and message received on Facebook and Instagram.
Even the postal service and her home security system had let her know who was trying to reach her.
You can run but you can no longer hide, she thought. Not if you have a phone.
On the road yet? Claire had texted, twenty minutes ago.
Just arranged it, Ranney replied. Heading your way. Any problems?
But there was no immediate response. If there were any real emergency, she would call, right?
Nilly’s message said: Are you still at the hospital? I know you’re dealing with a lot but if you could check in, Kari and Katie are wondering what’s going on. You’ve been MIA since yesterday afternoon and that’s not like you.
The fact that Nilly had used Kari and Katie’s names was code for get in touch right now. She was slipping up, and Ranney did not slip up.
Can’t call right now, I’m with a member of the party, she typed.
Please tell Kari and Katie I’m handling everything well.
It’s all under control. Surgery was successful and Nessa is with AnaMaria, so we left the hospital, currently en route to Freestone Club.
Am in touch with Claire, no issues that I am aware of. Last night went late.
A quick scan showed her that nothing else required an immediate reply.
Looking up from her phone, it dawned on Ranney that they hadn’t resumed their original course after the U-turn. They were headed back downtown.
“Achilles? Are we–where are we going?”
“I am taking you where you need to go. Just a few more minutes.”
“To the interstate? The highway?”
“Highway to heaven,” he said, his tone closely resembling an infomercial pitchman. “Okay, here we are.”
There were no signs visible for a highway on-ramp, and Ranney began to feel nervous. It was broad daylight and the streets were far from deserted, traffic and people everywhere, but it was Vegas. Anything can happen.
She was paid to remember that.
“Where?” Tom had looked up. “What’s going on?”
“You have a problem, you need to look like the US citizen. I bring you and your–” he hesitated briefly, “—ah, girlfriend, to the Aegean Wedding Chapel. Fifteen minutes, problem solved, we’ll be on our way. This is the best place.”
“Your brother’s…?”
“Yes!” Achilles beamed.
“No!” Tom barked. “Absolute rubbish. What are you — ”
“Wait,” Ranney interrupted. “I’ve read everything I could find so far. Without being an immigration lawyer, I think Achilles is right.”
“Of course I am right,” Achilles muttered, but Ranney didn’t stop as Tom’s gaze pinged from her to Achielles and back. She wanted to please him. Make him feel good. Make this award a reality.
She wanted to be important to him.
No , she scolded herself. You’re just helping a client. Even better.
“Tom, winning that prize–even being a runner-up–can make an entire career. Your work, what I’ve seen of it, is beautiful, breathtaking even, but you would be considered for world-class projects! Clients would stand in line! And you’d be a partner in a major architectural firm.”
“I don’t know If I’d call Pryce Partners a major–”
“It will be when they have a partner with a Saltzman.” He said nothing and she went on, touching his arm, enjoying the warmth of his strong, toned forearm.
“This obviously isn’t the same as claiming your citizenship paperwork-wise but it’s a credible path.
We’ll write the committee and explain the circumstances, and it will prove your intention, your commitment. ”
“We’ll write the committee and explain that we met in an airport yesterday and today we got married in Las Vegas at a drive-thru chapel, wearing yesterday’s clothes, with an Uber driver for a witness?”
Achilles drew in his breath sharply. “You hurt me.”
She leaned in, inhaling his scent. Tom moved closer and oh - she could feel it. A yearning, a closeness, and space between them that was only theirs. Something in his eyes darkened and his hand went to hers. She wasn't imagining the attraction.
But... marriage?
When he smiled, his whole face lit up, but those eyes stayed on her, appreciative and wanting. “This is bonkers, completely crazy. These are intelligent people, they aren’t going to believe this is real. You told me yourself a few hours ago that it isn’t real.”
All Ranney could do was lean in further, mesmerized.
Nessa's words stirred a deep rebellious streak inside her. Was this abnormal? Impossible? Was she prey? Would marrying Tom on a lark like this be a stupid act of a woman seeking -- what? What was she seeking?
Novelty, certainly.
One kiss did not a marriage make. Then again, she and Tom were far more compatible - on the surface, at least - than her and her first husband. And the Saltzman Prize was a big deal.
“Oh, now, that’s not so good. That is not what I thought. I drove you for three hours last night, I thought real.” Achilles had turned and was leaning on the console between the front seats. “Maybe I made a mistake. We should go.”
"You're right," Ranney said softly to Tom.
"It is silly. I can be a bit too strategic at times.
Marriage as a tool for helping a client might be a bridge too far.
I mean, it could help. It would be quite a story to tell in later years.
Our motto at work is Whatever It Takes , after all.
But it's impetuous and completely out of character for me, so -- "
“Hold on,” Tom said. “Achilles, we need a minute. We’ll be right back, don’t leave.”
Jumping out of the car, he ran around and opened Ranney’s door.
She stepped out, the afternoon heat hitting her in a wave.
The lightweight sweater she’d put on in Boston was now damp with perspiration but, as much as she wanted to strip it off, the silk camisole she was wearing underneath was not okay on its own.
Pushing up the sleeves, she headed for the small patch of shade under some palm trees at the edge of the parking lot.
“You are talking about getting married ,” he started. “That’s not a joke, not something you just say ‘never mind’ and walk away from a few days later, unless you’re that pop singer, whatever her name is. It’s a binding legal contract– very binding.”
“It’s a piece of paper,” Ranney countered. “You are technically a U.S. citizen, yes? Your mother was born here. You just haven't claimed your citizenship."
"Yes."